


lose the battle, win the war

by reginagalaxia



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: 3+1 Structure, Canon-Typical Emotional Repression, Estalished relationship, M/M, high octane stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginagalaxia/pseuds/reginagalaxia
Summary: juza says ‘i love you’ first, and well, banri hates losing.
Relationships: Hyoudou Juuza/Settsu Banri
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79





	lose the battle, win the war

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends, i started playing this game maybe 2-3 weeks ago, and all of a sudden, i left this trance and had a finished fic in hand.
> 
> hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing banri’s excellent decision-making.
> 
> (and thank you to krmy fam for fanning the flames)

1.

In a stunning display of ridiculously in-character behaviour, Banri Settsu scowls at his boyfriend when he says “I love you” for the first time.

“What the hell is that face?” Juza asks, equal parts horror and embarrassment settling on his features. Banri knows that this is big for him, to express himself so openly, to be so vuln—god, Banri can’t even finish the word in his head, fuck. Anyway, the real issue here is that Juza said it _first_ . Banri was going to—he had been thinking about it, see, considering admitting to his feelings in a gesture of grand romance, because he’s Banri Settsu, and fuck yeah, he can do this right—but—this _fucker_ had the _audacity_ to say it first.

This cannot stand.

“Hello?” Juza waves a hand in front of Banri’s face, which is a good indicator that he should reply like a normal person. Juza’s curled in on himself a little, hand picking at the hem of his shirt nervously, and okay, maybe Banri’s reaction was uncalled for. 

He’s just going to have to do a better job than Juza at saying it back.

“Can’t wait for rehearsal,” Banri says, completely nonsensically, realizing that none of the syllables that just left his mouth are even in the same solar system as those that he wanted to say. 

Juza’s eyes narrow. “Seriously, you good?”

“Yeah,amazing. You know, uh, thanks for—“ Banri waves his hands around to encapsulate the concept of ‘telling me you love me and yeah, I guess I feel the same’. He’s not sure that Juza gets it, but it’s okay, he will. 

He’s gonna absolutely demolish this game. Juza’s gonna cry, it’s gonna be so beautiful. Well, maybe do the slightly less constipated face and _maybe_ smile. Not that he’d tell anyone, but Juza smiling? That shit is pure poetry.

“‘Kay,” Juza replies, quiet and a shadow of his usual self. It still makes Banri’s heart twist a little to see him retreat into his old shell, that place where he thinks he doesn’t deserve the space that he occupies, and Banri refuses to be the person to put him back there.

He just has to think on the fly, is all. He can improvise. He’s an actor, for god’s sake; this is in his wheelhouse.

Since the sun is setting, Banri can use this to his advantage—peak romance, if he does say so himself. They’ve just turned down their street, the dorms coming into view, when Banri steels himself to turn Juza around and confess his love dramatically with the pink and purple watercolour scene of the sky behind them. God, he’s a fucking genius. It’ll be beautiful.

If Banri doesn’t throw up from nerves first, that is. He was so caught up in wanting to win that he forgot the whole _point_ of what he was saying in the first place, and here he is—oh my GOD—about to tell Juza that he loves him, and _means_ it for real. 

Banri’s heart is thudding against his ribcage, an erratic staccato that he could do without, but he can do this. He _will_ . He clenches his fist and exhales, putting his free hand on the crook of Juza’s elbow. Banri’s mid-turn when his shoe catches on something which he will later refer to mentally as a metaphor, and he lunges forward with more drama than is called for in the moment. When he catches himself, it’s with Juza’s help, a well-timed hand on his waist to help keep him up. The light catches the gold of Juza’s eyes, leaving Banri breathless, but he has enough of his wits about him to open his mouth and say, “I—“ and then there’s a loud honking and someone’s yelling and in a split second, Juza’s attention is elsewhere. The important part of the phrase is lost to the cacophony, and it’s not like Juza was even _looking_ at Banri when this stupid truck careened by, making a fucking racket. What has Banri done to deserve this, huh?

“You okay?” Juza asks.

Nodding like a perpetual motion machine, Banri replies, “Yeah, sure.”

2.

Banri is lying awake one night, deep in contemplation about how to approach this whole “I love you” predicament that he’s in. He has a reputation to uphold, though a part of him asks _who_ he’s upholding this _for_ , and he’s going to make Juza swoon.

That same, small part of his mind also feels compelled to remind him that Juza already likes him, that there’s no need to make a drama out of this, that he can just _say it_ without making it a production. That small part squeaks as the rest of his brain smothers it with complex and clever other ideas. 

So, Juza likes sweets. Banri knows this. Actually, anyone that’s been around Juza for more than five minutes knows this, but Banri is going to use it to his advantage.

He considers his options and the logistics of the situation, two things he’s exceptional at. To be honest, he’s exceptional at most things, but he’ll absolutely blow this out of the water. 

There’s a small smudge on the ceiling that his eyes keep being drawn to, derailing his train of thought repeatedly. On the other side of the room, the only thing audible is Juza’s soft breathing, which means that he’s not asleep yet. Banri looks over without moving his head, tucking his arms behind it. 

In an ideal world, Banri would take Juza out to his favourite cafe, the one with the cute french desserts, and tuck them away in a quiet corner to talk. He would wear his most charming face, the one where he tips his head a little bit and smiles just on this side of playful, bordering on seductive. Juza would blush attractively, that soft pink dusting his cheekbones as he looks down and avoids making eye contact for a few moments. It’s a treat to see him so bashful, an expression at odds with his intimidating—to other people, that is—appearance. It would be such a romantic moment, but maybe Juza would rather just hear Banri say it back without any frills. After dating for about six months, Banri feels like he has a good handle on what Juza likes, and when he allows himself to think about it, Banri realizes he should just fuckin—none of this waiting and planning. He’s going to grow as a person. He’s going to pull himself up by the bootstraps, be the bigger man, and tell Juza he loves him without any fanfare. 

There’s that frantic heartbeat again. Banri inhales deeply, then lets all the air out through his nose in a calm and measured way. For some reason, he wants his breathing to be quiet, like Juza will hear the nervousness in his exhale and—and what? There’s nothing at risk here, not really, as Juza’s already bared his soul, but Banri thinks he’s about to vomit. Not _actually_ , because he’s too cool to be that nervous about anything, but his stomach is performing some gymnastics that don’t make him feel great. 

Okay, Banri, he tells himself, just _do_ it.

He inhales again, then says, “Hyodo?” in a soft voice. It rings out in the silence, and Banri hears the sheets shift on Juza’s bed.

“Hn?” Juza replies, voice noticeably scratchy even in the single syllable.

“You awake?” Banri asks.

“Obviously.”

Banri stares blankly at the ceiling. His boyfriend is a fucking pain in the ass.

“I was bein’ _polite_ ,” Banri fires back.

“Yeah, ‘kay.” Juza’s voice is rough, but coloured with his usual unimpressed tone despite his sleepiness.

“Whatever. Okay, listen—“

“If you start talkin’ about weird space shit again, I’ll—“

“No, it’s not—that wasn’t weird! I was just _thinkin’_ about that game and like—okay, y’know what, I don’t have to explain myself, actually, you dick.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I wanted to tell you something that has nothing to do with space.”

“Uh huh,” Juza repeats, sounding even less enthusiastic this time. God, he’s so difficult. Why is Banri even bother—right. He loves him despite all of his _whatever_ . Ugh, he _loves_ him.

“Listen, just bear with me for a fuckin’ second, I’m just gonna—okay.” Banri inhales sharply. “So, I think I also, maybe, y’know, like—oh jesus fucking christ, I love you too.”

When he lets out a nervous breath at the end of his big declaration, weight lifting off his chest, a loud snore rattles the foundations of the house. Banri flops onto his back and curses at the ceiling.

Of _course_ the bastard fell _asleep_.

3.

He has been told that he’s “frustratingly lacking self-awareness” and “a colossal idiot”—who listens to Sakyo, anyway?—but Banri is batting 1.000 at determining that he is living up to Sakyo’s lack of expectations this week. Chalk one up for self-awareness, Sakyo, you old fart. Banri knows that he’s been more irritable and jittery than usual, and has almost figured out why. Juza has been stressed because of some exam he has in a week, and has been holing himself up to prepare, and well, it’s not that Banri thinks Juza is avoiding him, because he’s too cool to freak out over shit like that, but—Banri thinks Juza is avoiding him.

Banri doesn’t like this. Banri doesn’t get ignored or avoided because he’s simply—why is Juza not returning his texts?

There is the small matter of Banri still having one outstanding “I love you” following him around like an unsent text message in his soul, or something. He hates the limbo, but there just hasn’t been a good opportunity to say it back, what with Juza now deciding he hates Banri or whatever. Not that Banri _cares,_ but he’s just going to go to the library and study for—Banri picks up the nearest textbook—literature. Yeah. He’s going to study for a literature class. Which he is presumably taking.

Shoving an assortment of study materials into his bag, Banri grabs some onigiri before Misumi can squirrel them all away in his triangle home, and flies out the door. He caught a few snippets of greetings from the usual crowd milling around the dorms, but waved his hand instead of bothering with pleasantries. He has a goal. That goal is _studying_ for his—his—a class that he’s taking. Whatever.

Juza, a magical creature of habit, always sits in the same place when studying, and today is no exception. With all the grace and swagger that he possesses, Banri slides into the open chair next to him and grins.

The only indication that Juza had noticed him at all is the quirk of his lip, but Banri holds out while Juza finishes writing out his sentence.

“Hey,” Juza says, taking six years off Banri’s life with that gentle smile.

“Hey. Looks like you’re havin’ a good time, huh?”

“Yep.”

“I’m gonna join ya for a bit.”

Juza arches an eyebrow, looking far too skeptical for Banri’s liking. 

“What? Stop lookin’ at me like that. I study.”

“Maybe in your dreams.”

“Shut up and put your stupid mug back in that book!” Banri orders, but it only seems to amuse Juza more. 

“Okay,” he agrees affably, a tiny smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. This asshole.

Banri is a man of action, and of his word, and so he pulls out his many books and lays them out on the table. He deliberately places some of them over Juza’s, overlapping enough to drive him insane. Banri should know. He’s spent the better part of two years finding all the buttons to push to drive Juza crazy. Just one more thing Banri is good at, he thinks smugly.

As part of his grand plan to masquerade himself as a hardworking student who studies and knows what his textbooks look like, Banri brought his work. Well. He thought he brought his work. When he reaches for his literature text, he sees that it is in fact, a script. The covers just happen to be a similar shade of blue.

Luckily, Juza can’t possibly know this.

“Why didya bring your scripts from last year’s shows?” Juza asks.

That’s Banri’s business, _actually_ , and he doesn’t owe Juza an explanation, but he says, “I’m studyin’ literature.”

“Do scripts count?”

The worst part is that Juza seems earnestly curious, and Banri really likes that bright-eyed look on him.

“I’ll make ‘em count. Go back to your own shit, you need the review time.”

Juza sighs, world-weary, like Banri is the one being difficult here. Banri isn’t the one avoiding his boyfriend by going to the library to be insufferably cute around other people! Banri is the one that is here, realizing that it doesn’t _seem_ like Juza is mad at him, or avoiding him. Hmm.

Banri doesn’t like the way insecurity sits on his shoulders. He’s unfamiliar with it. It’s deeply unflattering on him, too, much like the waver of self-confidence he feels when Juza goes back to his textbook. Juza’s brow is furrowed, face drawn in focus like he wants to put holes in the paper with his eyes, and Banri, god help him, finds it cute.

Banri stares at the script before him, eyes unseeing while his brain puzzles out what to do with this whole situation.

“Hey,” he mumbles in a low voice, conscious of his tripling heart rate.

Juza hums in reply, but his eyes never leave the page.

“I just…” he trails off, picking at the edge of a page. “—love you too, okay?”

A tense beat of silence follows, in which Banri feels his soul leave his body, get a snack, and come back. Banri taps Juza’s foot with his, and Juza finally turns, pulling out an earbud. Oh, for _fuck’s sake._

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Banri hisses, and snaps his head back to stare at his hands instead.

Why is this so _hard_?

4.

Banri’s absolutely fucking had it. It’s been a few weeks now, and in between his nervousness—which is for other people, okay, not him—and inability to get the timing right, he’s been a bit squirrelly. 

So much so, that Juza’s pulled him aside after lunch one day to ask him what the fuck is happening.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” he asks Banri, but his tone is gentle. The contrast between Juza as he is and as he’s gotten used to being seen is huge, and it’s almost funny to see it in action in one moment like this.

“Nothing?” Banri replies, too quickly. He knows he sounds defensive, which is not helping his case here. It’s such a knee-jerk reaction to being asked something so straightforwardly, and one he’s not good at suppressing. 

“You’re bein’ weird, man. Actually...since I said—“ Juza face screws up.

“No! No, it’s no, it’s uh, no, just.” Banri stumbles and comes to a dead stop, staring at a spot on the floor instead of at Juza. 

“If it—it was—I shouldn’t’ve—“ 

“Stop.” Banri can’t watch him perform the mental gymnastics necessary to explain away why he admitted to loving Banri. He refuses to be responsible for Juza having any more self-confidence issues. Juza looks at him expectantly, eyes focused on Banri’s with an intensity that Banri can’t ignore. 

Most of the time, Banri does what he thinks is right in any given scenario, and doesn’t think much about anything else. In this circumstance, he knows exactly what he needs to do, but he feels like he can’t get the words out. He’s almost choking on the effort of trying to hold Juza’s gaze, let alone being honest with him right now. Banri feels stripped bare, sweaty behind the knees, and he doesn’t think he can do this. He doesn’t even have to say anything ridiculous—he just has to tell Juza that he’s not bothered by his confession. The opposite, actually, although, maybe Banri is upset that he wasn’t first, but given the circumstanc—Banri shakes his head to clear that train of thought. 

Juza looks like he wants the Earth to swallow him whole, and Banri can relate. He can really relate.

“Can you just like, yell at me, or somethin’?” Banri asks, a last-ditch effort to ease some of the tension.

“You want me to...yell at you?” Juza repeats, brow furrowing even further.

“Fuck, I can’t—“

“If you wanna break up, just say it.”

“No! I don’t! Stop looking sad like that! I’m trying to—“ Banri runs a sweaty hand through his hair and stands. “—okay, I’m gonna get some water.”

Banri doesn’t remember opening the door and leaving the room, so he may have willed himself into teleportation, but he’s in the kitchen now and may as well get something to drink. His hands shake as he waits for the glass to fill, which may as well take an _eternity_. There are some general house noises filtering into Banri’s consciousness, but he’s pretty sure everyone’s out or in their rooms. It’s midday on a weekday, so they don’t have to witness this disaster.

When Banri comes back, he leans in the doorway, looking as casual as he doesn’t feel. 

“Couldya just—“ Juza starts, gesturing towards the door.

“No, Imma do this so don’t—just—shut up for a second.” Banri puts his palm out to drive the point home and exhales. He sounds like he’s run a marathon, which doesn’t support his ‘I am casual’ theory.

“No, seriously, close the—“

“No! Okay, listen! I do _not_ want to break up, and I’ve been fuckin’ weird because I keep—“

“Settsu, hey, I—“

“Can you not let me fucking finish?!” Banri roars and Juza recoils, but instead of looking shocked, he looks a bit pissed off.

“I—“

“I’m tryin’ to tell you that I love you too, you fuckin’ asshole! God!” is what comes out of his mouth and he deflates after, blood rushing to his face. He’s going to need to change his shirt after this because he’s sweating like a pig, but it’s done. It’s out there. 

Banri looks at Juza properly now, chest heaving, and finds him smiling sheepishly, still standing with way too much room between them. Why isn’t Banri being kissed right now? What the fuck kind of world is this?

“That was so _manly_ ,” Banri hears Taichi say from somewhere and—Banri’s eyes open wide, head whipping around to realize that Taichi isn’t the only one within earshot. He’s standing there with—Banri feels a little faint. He can’t bring himself to identify who else is there, but there are many people.

“Very passionate, Banri!” Izumi says, clapping. “You should bring that kind of enthusiasm to your street acts!”

Banri makes a sort of squeak of a sound and shuts the door, pressing his back to it. When he finally looks over at Juza, this fucker is _laughing_. He’s laughing so much that it’s silent, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

“This affects you too!” Banri reminds him, voice pitching hysterically.

“That—“ Juza can’t even get the word out, and Banri would be _very_ angry if Juza didn’t look so damn attractive when he’s happy. Banri snorts, laughing helplessly as Juza crosses the room, tugging Banri in by his belt loops.

“We’re gonn—“

Juza kisses him, deep and slow, big hands sliding up Banri’s waist and rucking up his shirt. Banri gasps, happy to let this continue once he’s said his piece. He pulls back, leaning awkwardly so that Juza will stop kissing him for a damn second—god, he’s good at that—but—

“So can we pretend—“ Banri starts, and then Juza’s fingers are sliding up his spine and Banri’s brain isn’t built to handle that kind of touch and continue functioning.

“That happened,” Juza says, starting to laugh again. “Not gonna forget it.” Fuck, he is _so_ hot, ugh. 

“I’m movin’ overseas and never talkin’ to anyone here ever again.”

“And me?”

“Guess I can still talk to you,” Banri replies, nudging their noses together.

“Good,” Juza says, lips quirked up, and kisses Banri again.

Banri may not have won this battle, but he’s definitely won the war. He loves Juza and yeah—Juza loves him too.


End file.
